


The Hounds

by justkaitiegrace, tinyangel



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Superwholock - Fandom
Genre: 10, 10th Doctor - Freeform, Hell Hounds, Johnlock - Freeform, London, Multi, SPN - Freeform, Superwholock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkaitiegrace/pseuds/justkaitiegrace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyangel/pseuds/tinyangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>UNFINISHED + SPOILERS (SHERLOCK)<br/>John Watson can't cope with Sherlock's death. It's been over a year now, and he has one last hope of getting him back...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

John stood, holding a small tin in his hands. His jeans were ripped and his coat dusty, his clothes reflecting the man wearing them. The past months had been hard on him, as had the past year. He had taken to searching the web in desperation, looking into every myth and legend he could find, needing some way to see his friend again. He knelt down, scooping dirt up with his hands, hoping that this time would be different, that this one would work. He had followed the instructions on the website to a tee, and this was the last of the long list he had spent the past three months working through. If this didn't work... He didn't want to think about it.  
Wiping the sweat from his brow he hesitated before placing the tin in the hole, hoping beyond all hope that it would work. He took a swig from the flask in his pocket before shoving the dirt back into place, the now soothing feel of alcohol sliding down and warming his throat. When the hole was completely covered, he stood. The night was silent.  
John shivered, and watched as his breath turned to fog in front of his face. A frown crossed his features; he hadn't felt the cold before. Taking another drink, he waited, growing impatient with the still night.   
"Where are you!?" He shouted, his voice hoarse with croak of a desperate man, slightly shaking with anger and slurred with alcohol. "I did what it said! Why aren't you here!?" He sunk back to the ground, feeling tears form wet tracks down his cheeks. A breeze that seemed to have come from nowhere cooled his moist skin. “I tried..." He murmured, taking another swig of scotch from his flask and retracting back into himself. "I tried." His tears came heavier now, the finality of Sherlock's death hitting him like a wave crashing against the rocks. "I'm sorry." Little more than a whisper, the words echoed in his mind, his only thought that he had let himself down, he had let his friend down. He would never see Sherlock again, and with that John Watson just couldn't cope. Now he truly had lost everything.

* * *

 

"What's getting you down old man?" The accented voice of a woman cut through the cold silence, startling John and causing him to turn quickly. At the end of the crossroads stood a woman with dark hair, wearing boots, jeans and a red tank. She advanced on him, no weapons in her hands but a threatening aura about her. He scrambled to his feet, raising his hands defensively, although part of him didn't care about living anymore. "Oh don't worry, I won't bite. Besides, I thought you called me?" John stood for a moment, confused as to what she meant. As he watched her, her eyes flashed red for a second, before fading back to brown. It dawned on him. It had worked. He lowered his shaking hands and stepped closer.  
"Can you bring him back?" He asked, a seed of hope sprouting in his heart.   
"Of course. But it'll cost you."   
"I don't care." He cut in. "Anything. I'll give you anything. Just bring Sherlock back to me." The woman stood, taking in John's ragged appearance, her eyes lingering on the only piece of clean clothing: The navy blue scarf around his neck. She almost pitied him.  
"I can give you ten years, John Watson. Ten long, happy years. But only ten." John nodded; he had been expecting that. You could live a lifetime in ten years.  
"Ten years, and then you take me. Not him." John watched as the woman nodded, and that was all the encouragement he needed. "Bring him back." He told her.  
"Alright. Done. He's all yours." John held his hand out to shake on it but instead she seized his face and kissed him, sealing the deal. John's eyes widened in surprise, his lips breaking into a smile as she pulled away.   
"Thankyou." He said, and she nodded before walking down the road and vanishing from his sight. He rubbed his eyes incase he had imagined it, but she was gone. As he headed back to his car, he realized that the night was warm again.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John arrives to find a suspicious and skeptical Sherlock...

John arrived back at 221B Baker Street, the shiny black door was the only thing that stood in front of him and his wish. Stepping out of his car, John looked up to the windows of his and Sherlock’s flat; a light was on. A million things were running through John’s head. What should he say? Will Sherlock know what’s going on? John took his view from the windows to the door in from of him. He hesitated before making his way towards it. He reached out and unlocked it; stepping inside. Mrs Hudson appeared before him smiling sympathetically.  
“Oh, John. Where have you been this time of night?” She asked, John didn’t answer. “Are you alright dear?” Mrs Hudson’s face changed to an expression of worry. John was able to make a crooked smile to reassure Mrs Hudson.  
“F-fine. Mrs Hudson.” John said and nodded his head slightly as he began to climb the stairs. Mrs Hudson patted John’s hand and left him to go upstairs.  
In what seemed like hours, John had reached the landing. Heart racing, he took slow steps to the door of the living room and before he could waste any more time he opened the door and stepped through.   
John’s heart almost stopped. He had to lean against the wall so he wouldn’t crumple into a heap on the floor. The deal had worked. It had actually worked. There, sitting on his seat in front of the fire place, was Sherlock. He looked up at John, his eyes flickering in the warm light emitted from the fire. Sherlock’s lips twitched into a small smile.  
“Hello J―”  
“Oh my God, Sherlock!” John’s emotions exploded and he ran forward. He gripped Sherlock’s shirt and pulled him up, throwing his arms around Sherlock’s neck, standing up on tiptoe. Sherlock didn’t know what to say or do, he could feel John’s heartbeat against his chest, his own rising as if he’d run many miles. He placed his own arms around John and John hugged him tighter. He hugged Sherlock for minutes, he had never been so happy to see the consulting detective than right now. Sherlock’s mind was ticking, he knew something was up, something John wasn’t telling him.  
“John. What happened?” Sherlock asked. John loosened his grip and looked up. His face was so close to Sherlock’s; he could feel his warm breath puffing against his skin. John hesitated before speaking.  
“I―”  
“Don’t even think about lying to me John, you know how badly it will end.” Sherlock cut in sharply, his stare was digging deep into John’s mind, finding exactly what he was thinking. John didn’t know what to say. Sherlock was right, he’d know if he was lying. John sighed and decided that he’d just tell Sherlock the truth; it wasn’t as if Sherlock was going to believe him anyway.  
“Do you believe in the supernatural?” John asked.  
“No, it’s all nonsense.” Sherlock scoffed, making John’s brain hurt, weary from how persistent Sherlock was with his arguments.  
“Well it’s real,” John started, “I’m not sure how much of it but some of it is real.” Sherlock laughed.  
“I beg to differ, John.” Sherlock retorted. John rubbed a hand over his face.  
“Sherlock, you don’t know, you’ve never seen it.”  
“Which is exactly why it doesn’t exist.” Sherlock stated quite finally, but John wasn’t going to let Sherlock win this one.  
“Just because you haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”  
“Come now, John. The supernatural? Can you really be serious?” Sherlock asked with a tone of sarcasm.  
“Sh¬―” John was about to tell him but Sherlock cut him off.  
“Magic and witches and demons? Surely you should know that they’re all just made up stories to frighten children and give some people things to imagine about.” Sherlock’s voice had risen to a higher volume and speed; this was the voice he used when he was about to completely blow someone away with his deductions on just about everything.  
“Sherlock.”  
“There is nothing that proves that the supernatural exists, it’s just a theory. People made up stories to evoke fear and to humiliate those who were too stupid to believe them.” Sherlock wasn’t listening to John; he continued and didn’t even notice John’s eyes welling up.  
“Sherlock.”  
“The supernatural has always been a myth, John. And don’t start trying to convince me any of it is true because it’s all fiction. Fake. Made up. Plain, old myths. So John, do tell me where―” John cut Sherlock off, almost screaming out, fresh tears sliding down his dusty skin.  
“Sherlock you died!”   
Everything froze. The room was silent, and neither man moved. John’s breathing became strained and Sherlock’s eyes were wide in surprise.   
“You’re lying…” Sherlock said, his brows knitting together.  
“Look me in the eyes, and tell me if I’m lying.” John’s loud breaths came out in short puffs and his face held an expression of determination yet his eyes showed the sadness that was truly in his heart. And Sherlock knew, in that moment, that his best friend was not lying. Sherlock had truly risen from the grave. But how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 written by tinyangel :) We're alternating chapters/parts, so next one will be from yours truly (kaitie) x Sneaky preview: An unexpected guest pops in ;)


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor arrives in London just time in time to overhear John and Sherlock, and offers to help.

The Doctor opened the door of the Tardis and stepped out into the cold british air. Looking around, he could tell he was sometime in the 21st century; cars were driving through the streets even at this time of night, their drivers sipping coffee or talking on mobile phones mounted on dashboards. A car sped past him blaring music, the heavy thud of the bass following it into the distance as it disappeared down streets lined by old houses, the occasional light blinking in a window. The doctor smiled. _Life,_ he thought, _how wonderful.  
  
_ A black London taxi pulled up in front of the curb on which the doctor stood and a short, gray-haired man got out. He approached a black door and paused, composing himself before unlocking it. The doctor looked more carefully and noticed tear tracks down his dusty face. He listened as he heard muffled voices and the man’s footsteps on stairs and silently opened the door and followed him inside. He poked around the bottom floor before heading up the stairs, pausing just outside the door. He could hear voices arguing.  
“…too stupid to believe them.”  
“Sherlock.” The second voice strained, painful. The Doctor didn’t know what was going on, but he could tell that it was something big. The voice of ‘Sherlock’ continued.  
“The supernatural has always been a myth, John. And don’t start trying to convince me any of it is true because it’s all fiction.” The Doctor frowned at this, but kept listening, the rising voices and topic of conversation intriguing him. “Fake. Made up. Plain, old myths. So John, do tell me where -”  
 “Sherlock _you died!_ ” The other voice, John, shouted, interrupting the man and causing the entire room to fall silent. The doctor froze outside the door, a million explanations running through his mind ranging from crazy to insane. What did he mean _Sherlock died?_ The Doctor was shaken from his thoughts by Sherlock’s voice.  
“You’re lying…”  
“Look me in the eyes and tell me if I’m lying.”  
“Well then…. How?”  
The Doctor needed to know what happened. Something dangerous could be at work here, and he needed to find out what. He took his cue, straightening up and waltzing into the living room.  
“Well, maybe I can help with that.” He offered his hand to the short man, who shook it, and to the tall one, who didn’t.  
The expressions on their faces told him a lot more than words could have. The younger, taller man was easy to read: completely baffled at the possibly of greater things existing and more than a little annoyed at the stranger in his house. The short, older man was harder. He had dark bags under his eyes which showed a weariness the Doctor could only assume had come from a great loss. He felt a pang in his chest; he knew that pain. The fresh tears rolling down his cheeks and huffed breaths animating his chest told the Doctor he was angry or frustrated, but the corners of his mouth were turned up, and his eyes had a soft light in them when he looked at his younger companion. _This must be John,_ he thought, _and the other Sherlock._  
“I’m sorry, uh, who are you?” John asked.  
“I’m-”  
“He’s a doctor.” Sherlock interrupted. “And he’s not from around here… he travels, quite a lot I would think. And usually with someone, but for some reason, not tonight…” The Doctor was stunned at how much this man knew about him, but he didn’t let it show.  
“ _The_ Doctor, actually. And you’re right, I do travel and I do usually have a companion with me, but right now I’m here and apparently _you_ ” he looked at Sherlock, “shouldn’t be. So, let’s talk for a bit, alright?”  
Sherlock looked to John and raised his eyebrow and John shrugged, giving up. He’d had enough excitement to last a life time.  
“I’ll make tea.” He announced, walking into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock and the Doctor alone. The Doctor watched Sherlock for a minute, intrigued by this obviously intelligent yet ignorant man. He walked over to him and sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace.  
“How did you do that?” He asked. When he got no answer, he elaborated. “The whole reading-my-mind thing. How did you do it?” Sherlock turned to face the doctor.  
“It’s not mind reading, it’s observation. Your body-language, your clothes, it’s simple really.” He spoke in an offhand manner, clearly distracted. After a minute, he spoke again. “What did you mean when you said you could help?” The Doctor began to answer when John walked back in, holding a tray balancing three cups of tea. He carefully placed it on the table and picked a cup before sinking into an armchair opposite the Doctor. Sherlock picked up a cup and tasted it, a hint of a smile on his lips. John made a very nice cup of tea.  
“I’ll need to know what happened before I can make any suggestions.” He told them, taking the last cup for himself. John took a deep breath, mentally preparing for the story he was about to tell. Sherlock, however, jumped in before he could get a word out.  
“Okay. But in return, you have to tell us about yourself. Who you really are, and what you really do. Because you act like a doctor, but I can see there’s more to you than just that.” Again, the Doctor frowned. He was a little uncomfortable at how easily this man could read him. But he nodded, and leaned back in his chair to listen to John recount the events of the past year.


	4. Part 4

John took long, deep breaths, rubbing his eyes as he recollected the memories that he so dearly wanted to forget. They were dark times; John did things that he never thought he was capable of, never imagined he’d do. He dragged his hands down his face, setting his chin on his knuckles and fixing his gaze on the old and worn rug on the floor of the living room.  
“Sherlock was on the roof of St. Bart’s with Moriarty, and…” John paused. He closed his eyes, the image of Sherlock falling replayed in his mind. “He jumped.” He said, looking up to meet Sherlock’s emotionless face with glassy eyes.  
“And somehow you survived?” The Doctor asked, leaning forward; John shook his head.  
“No. Sherlock definitely died.” John said directly to Sherlock who cocked his eyebrow but remained unmoving. It was in a way eerie, how Sherlock stayed completely calm by this information.  The Doctor glanced from John to Sherlock.  
“Dead men don’t just get up and walk away.” The Doctor stated. Neither John nor Sherlock responded; both were staring the other down. Sherlock was searching all of John’s features for the answer; he could tell that John had something to do with the whole thing but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. John was trying with all his might not to look guilty, Sherlock would get so angry over what he’d done, but he was going to have to confess his actions anyway, wasn’t he?  
“I got desperate. It had been months since you died, I wouldn’t allow myself to believe you weren’t there. I imagined you working around the apartment and rushing off to solve a case and when you got back I’d make us both a cup of tea. It took me a while to realise that the second cup always remained untouched, going cold because there was no second person to drink it. I finally had to tell myself; ‘he’s gone’.  
I started drinking, and I thought of crazy ideas of magic and the supernatural, wondering if there was anything that could bring you back. I looked on the internet, searching endless websites for stories about resurrecting the dead and I tried them all but none worked; all but one. It was late one night and I was in the middle of nowhere, at a crossroad, performing the ritual; at first nothing happened and I was going to give up, but then it worked.” John waited for a reaction, the Doctor leaned back, taking everything John had said in.  
“And so this ‘ritual’, what exactly was it?” The Doctor questioned.  
“A summoning ritual.” John replied and the Doctor looked at him in disbelief.  
“A summoning ritual?” The Doctor asked, John nodded, “And what were you summoning?”  
John hesitated. If Sherlock and the Doctor hadn’t thought he was already crazy by this point then the next bit of information would give them no reason to hesitate in thinking so.  
“I was summoning a crossroads demon.” John mumbled and looked at his hands. The Doctor and Sherlock shared a look of confusion.  
“A crossroads demon?” The Doctor asked, “But I thought they were all gone.”  
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Sherlock asked, as if he couldn’t believe the Doctor was going along with it.  
“Gone.” The Doctor said, more talking to himself, “And the angels, and of course the Leviathans…”  
“What are you talking about?” Sherlock demanded.  
“Well demons were, or are, a race and they live in a pocket universe, a universe attached to this universe, more commonly known as Hell. Only some demons can get through the rift to Earth but when they do they make all kinds of mayhem. I could have sworn the rift was closed though…” The Doctor fell silent and allowed his thoughts to consume him. John and Sherlock watched the Doctor, waiting for a further explanation, but they didn’t get one. The Doctor sat completely still, staring at a patch of wallpaper that had begun to peel away from the wall.  
“So, demons…” John said after the silence had become awkward.  
“What year is it?” The Doctor asked, surprising Sherlock and confusing John.  
“2013.” Sherlock replied.  
“Hm.” The Doctor hummed but didn’t explain.  
“What?” John asked, looking nervously between Sherlock and the Doctor.  
“Nothing, just wondering…” The Doctor said vaguely. “So you made a deal with a crossroads demon?” he asked again to John.  
“Y-yes.” John said, he could tell the Doctor knew. John’s palms became sweaty and he found that no matter which way he sat in his seat, he couldn’t get comfortable. Sherlock soon noticed John’s restlessness.  
“John, what’s wrong?” John looked up at Sherlock, he’d have to tell him, but he couldn’t, it would kill Sherlock.  
“You have to tell him.” The Doctor said; John’s head whipped around to face the Doctor. _Oh God, why did he have to say that?_  
“Tell me what?” Sherlock queried, eyes darting all over both John and the Doctor’s features for the answer. John bowed his head and shook it.  
“No, no I can’t.” he muttered, the Doctor leaned forward.  
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. But you’re going to have to.”  
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on!” Sherlock projected his voice all through the room, getting rather frustrated. John didn’t raise his head; he just closed his eyes and shook it again. “John―” Sherlock said, getting worried and tilting his head to try and make eye contact. “John, please, tell me!” John raised his head slowly, his eyes once again wet. Sherlock’s face dropped at this sight, “John, what is it?” John took in a shaky breath.  
“I only have ten years to live.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, this one's been written by tinyangel, next chapter should be up soon! (We've been pre-occupied with school -performances and tests- and stuff but should be back on schedule soon :) ) Thanks for sticking with us! -Kaitie x


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some travelling.... ;)

The apartment was silent. The Doctor looked from John to Sherlock and back again, watching as Sherlock's mind tried to process all the new information. Slowly, he brought his head up to face John.  
"No." The statement rang out through the apartment, Sherlock's voice strained, throat constricting around the word. "No." He said again, and this time it wasn't pain, but conviction in his voice. "Whatever bargain you made, whatever deal you agreed to, it's over. Finished. Gone." John looked at him sadly.  


"It doesn't work that way Sherlock." He opened his mouth to argue but John didn't allow it. "Even if it did, I'm not living without you." He said it lightly but he meant it; the past three months had been hard enough. John couldn't go through that again. Sherlock's mind whizzed as he tried to come up with a solution, his fingers involuntarily coming together in front of his face. "There has to be a way..." He murmured to himself. "There has to be something..."

The Doctor watched as Sherlock and John retreated into themselves, neither accepting the other's stand.

"Sherlock no, I have ten years with you, that's enough. If you try and fight this it won't end well..." John's voice trailed off into a murmur and he looked sadly at Sherlock. Sherlock narrowed his eyes further as he kept thinking, not wanting to cause another argument by replying.

"You remind me of someone..." The Doctor began, "Someones, actually. And I rather think you should meet them." John turned towards him and Sherlock's eyes snapped open.  
"Could they help?" John asked, letting himself have hope. The Doctor smiled.  
"Definitely. I could take you to them now, if you'd like..?" Sherlock and John exchanged hopeful glances before rising and collecting their coats. They followed the Doctor outside and John reached out to hail a taxi but the Doctor stopped him. "I'll take you." He said, and John looked around for a car. Meanwhile, Sherlock was squinting at a shape across the street.  
"When did they install a police box?" He asked John. John squinted at where Sherlock's eyes were focused and could see a dark, rectangular box on the opposite side of the street. His brows furrowed in confusion.  
"They didn't..." He murmured. The pair crossed the road to inspect the curiosity, and the Doctor followed, grinning to himself. John walked in a circle slowly around the box and Sherlock pulled on the door, only to discover it was locked.  
"Allow me." The Doctor said and pulled his key out with a flourish from his inside pocket. Sherlock noticed a long metal object next to the key but decided to ask about it later. Things were strange enough already. The door opened with a click and John finished his circle, standing beside Sherlock and peering at the doors. When they opened, his jaw dropped.  
"But...That-that's impossible, I-I just...." He closed his mouth and stepped inside then back out again. "I mean... That can't be!" Sherlock was quiet, running his hands along the wooden door, his mind running a mile a minute trying to find any secrets the blue paint might hold. The Doctor smiled to himself, waiting.  
"It's....." John started, and the Doctor grinned, "It's-"   
"It's another dimension, John, and it's  _entirely_  possible, apparently." Sherlock interrupted, making the Doctor roll his eyes. He should have known.  
"Yes." He huffed. " _She_  is another dimension. And  _she_  has a name: The TARDIS. Time And Rela-"  
"Relative Dimension In Space." Sherlock interrupted again, this time in wonder. "She's a time machine." He breathed, eyes wide. "John, this is a time machine... Think of the possibilities! We could go anywhere, we could go everywhere!" Sherlock was grinning, eyes bright, and John couldn't help but smile too. Even the Doctor grinned, nudging his guests further inside. 

"Not so fast. I'll take you on a trip somewhere after we've sorted this mess out." Sherlock was practically bouncing at this. His eyes darted all over the place, taking in the switches and knobs and buttons on what he assumed was the computer, a control panel of sorts. He noticed the doors leading further into the Tardis and the  endlessness they suggested, and was overwhelmed with a need to explore them all. The secrets of the universe could be hidden inside this beauty. The Doctor led them over to the control panel ('console' he called it) and started playing around with the switches and buttons. Sherlock glanced at John, who was taking everything in with wide eyes, and then at one of the many screens on the console. He frowned. There seemed to be something written there - directions, maybe - but the words were made entirely out of  _lines and circles._  


"What language is that?" He asked the Doctor, who turned, preparing himself for the interrogation.

"Circular Gallifreyan. Language of the Time Lords." He replied, entering something into the Tardis's computer.

"And a Time Lord is..?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, we were a race, a long, long time ago. But to cut a very long story short, there was a war through time and I'm the only one left." He turned to the console to finish whatever it was he was doing, and when another question didn't come he turned back, confused. Sherlock seemed to have accepted what he said and moved on, examining the co-ordinates on the  screen closest to him. John on the other hand was quite puzzled.

"What do you mean 'war through time'?" He asked.

"The Time Lords were engaged in war with the Daleks, and if it didn't end the universe would have been destroyed -"

"Naturally." Sherlock cut in, and the Doctor scowled.

"-so I ended it." He finished, and John's frown deepened.

"How?" He asked, and the Doctor groaned inwardly. Why so many questions? He started to reply but Sherlock interrupted.

"It doesn't matter, John, what matters is its over. Now, how do you read Gallifreyan?" He looked at the Doctor expectantly.

"Uhh, well..."

"What's a Dalek?" John asked.

"It's, um.... Well they-" 

"Are these coordinates? Latitude, longitude and... Date? And time?" Sherlock asked.

"Well ye-"

"And what is that noise?" The Doctor ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Enough was enough.

"OI!" he shouted. "One question at a time or I won't answer any!" He shook his head; it was like dealing with children. Sherlock and John shared sheepish glances and they nodded to the Doctor.

"Sorry," John said, "it's a lot to take in." The Doctor smiled understandingly.

"It's alright. Yes, Sherlock, those are co-ordinates showing place and time, although I don't know how you got that... Gallifreyan is simple once you know it, and I can show you later if you want to learn it. John, a Dalek is an evil creature, an alien species that you'd probably call a robot if you saw one. They're very powerful and I had to destroy my planet to get rid of them." John and Sherlock nodded, more questions on Sherlock's lips, though he was wise enough to restrain himself. "And that noise," the Doctor said, just as a whooshing, groaning sound filled the Tardis, "means we're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Srry this took so long! Exams, writer's block, laziness... I will not take this long again! Promise! This chapter was from me, so tinyangel is writing the next one! Stay tuned everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and thanks for reading! A friend and I are collaborating on this, so updates may take a while. Feedack is appreciated, and please beware of spoilers.


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